


If Wishes Were...

by Dana



Category: Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, a bit of domesticity, fluff and banter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-15
Updated: 2016-07-15
Packaged: 2018-07-24 06:12:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7497126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dana/pseuds/Dana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The weekend is here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If Wishes Were...

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Breval](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Breval/gifts).



> This started as a drabble, was edited into a double drabble, and now exists as a 500 word ficlet. Just some fluff for **breval** , not that I remember why I originally wrote it for her. ♥ Bit of a beta done by **Loz** , thanks!

Gene calls beer o'clock and the team rolls on out, ready for the weekend – well, all but Sam, who's stood back at his desk, buttoning his jacket. 'So...' Sam glances up at him, halfway furtive, or maybe that's just the tired bags beneath his eyes. Gene jams his hands down into his pockets, rocks back slightly on his heels. 'You think you can manage it, two whole days away from this place?'

Sam's inability to lighten up is a constant running gag between the two of them, and it's been a bad enough week, though it ended surprisingly well. Even Sam must be looking forward to some very well-deserved R&R. 

'Honestly?' Sam grimaces, shrugging. 'I'm really not sure – we could do a bit of gardening, maybe some spring cleaning? That Dutch cabinet your missus left as a going-away present is a bloody eye sore, when are you going to get rid of it?' It's a nice cover, Sam-the-lodger and Gene-the-grudging-landlord – helps facilitate some other things too, and not just the shagging. Gene snorts, Sam cracks a grin, and as one they turn towards the door. 'I was serious about the cabinet, I don't like the way it looks at me. Gives me nightmares.'

'Yeah, but so does the telly.' Sam, not having a counter to that one, stays silent. 'Pub first, then a bite to eat – after that, the sky's the limit.' He pushes the door open and holds it for Sam to go through, doesn't even add 'ladies first' (he'd get popped once for that one, and he'd deserve it). Sam's already sauntering away from him, but Gene, hot on his heels, quickly catches up.

'Come on,' Gene says, slinging an arm about Sam's shoulders and squeezing him close. 'Doesn't that sound nice?'

Sam stifles a yawn as presses into Gene, Gene glad to support his weight. 'Wine and dine me all you want, Hunt, I won't be fooled. Over the next forty-eight hours, I'm looking forward to spending as much time in bed as is humanly possible – with or without you, the end.' They stumble to a stop, Sam tilting a sideways look at him.

Gene huffs out a laugh, gives Sam a tighter squeeze, because with that smirk and _that_ glint in his eyes, they both know just where Sam wants Gene to be. 'You be a bad enough boy, the Gene Genie might just have to grant your wish.'

–

'I meant it about the cabinet...' Sam says later, in bed, when they're both too tired to do anything other than lay there together, cuddled close. Gene, rolling onto his side, drags Sam with him and cuddles him harder.

'Yes, Gladys, I know.' He kisses the back of Sam's head, and Sam mumbles a reply that Gene doesn't feel like translating from 'sleepy Sam' to 'actual English'. 'Now shut up and get some bloody kip.'

–

The cabinet is gone by Monday morning, picked up and taken away to a charity drop.

–

And yes, they mostly just sleep.


End file.
